Chapter 5

After flying for over an hour above an empty blue sea, a small island appeared over the horizon and the helicopter began to descend. I looked down towards my new home and my heart sank when I saw just how small it was. Ringed by a sandy beach, the actual 'green' part of the place was probably less than a mile long by half that wide and at its highest point it probably only touched just over a hundred feet or so. As we approached closer, I just had time to make out that there seemed to be three groups of buildings in separate locations on the island before the chopper landed on the beach alongside what appeared to be the main house.

A welcoming party of two men ran forward and opened the doors before helping first Mr Foster and then myself out. The pair of newcomers greeted our mutual boss warmly and then shook my hand as I was introduced to them by Mr Foster. "This is Mr Cunningham," my patient informed me, pointing to the larger and heavier of the two, "He's in charge of security here as well as advising me on these matters for the rest of my 'empire'. And this other gentleman is Mr Haga whose area of responsibility is that of the domestic staff and that side of thing. Like yourself, Carol, they live in the main house with me. Shall we get inside now? I, for one, could use a drink and I suspect that the others could too."

As we walked up the beach towards the house, we passed a large swimming pool and laying about on some recliners were several dark skinned young women, all with black hair, wonderful bodies and big breasts. A few were naked but most had on bikini briefs. None had a top on. They all smiled and called out cheerfully as our little part went passed. Part of the 'domestic' staff, I suspected. "Now now, my dear," my patient admonished me seeing the look on my face, "No need to get jealous. Apart from yourself, all the rest of the staff here are male, even including the cleaners. The girls are here to relieve their... stresses as well as looking after the comforts of my senior staff." I snorted, unconvinced, and kept on walking...

Once inside the ground floor of the air-conditioned house and with a cooling glass of orange juice in my hand, things looked better, I have to say. I was briefly given the run down of the operation here - Cunningham was in overall charge and had his own team who mounted a twenty-four hour security system both of physical patrols and electrical surveillance. Haga's responsibilities broke into three separate areas, the cooks and cleaners and such, then a small maintenance team... and then there was the girls. Only Mr Foster, myself and the two 'managers' lived in the main house while the guards, engineers and domestics had a compound at the other end of the island while the women, those not shacked up for the night, that is, had a dormitory half way between the other two compounds.

"You'll be reporting directly to me in all matters, Carol," Cunningham informed me in a no-nonsense voice that got right under my skin.

"That's Nurse Smith to you," I responded sharply, "And as far as I'm concerned, the health of my patient over rules everything and in that area, my word is law. Security is your baby, Mr Cunningham, health is mine!"

Cunningham took a deep breath ready to respond but, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a smiling Mr Foster shake his head slightly, just the once, and the security chief deflated like a pricked balloon. "Carol?" my patient suggested, "Why don't you go and check over your equipment and supplies? These gentleman and I have much to discuss..."

Taking the hint, I smiled, nodded and rose from my chair. "The second door or the right down the corridor, Nurse Smith," Cunningham advised me.

"Thank you so very much, Mister Cunningham," I responded before leaving the room.

An hour later I'd convinced myself that I knew how to work the life saving machine that was housed in that room and I'd also drawn up a list of supplies both for it and for general medical use. I returned to the lounge and, after knocking and being bid to enter, I presented my list to Mr Foster who, after perusing it, passed it over to his security chief. "Is all this really necessary?" the large man asked.

"If it wasn't necessary, I wouldn't have put it on the list. Your medical supplies are woefully inadequate. I'd guess that we can be cut off for many days out here? And looking about, I could be faced with everything from a sprained wrist to a miscarriage to a limb amputation out here with a doctor at least two hours away in the best of circumstances. Yes, I require all that is on the list. I also need to know that the dialysis machine has it's own, independent, back up generator..."

"Yes, that's in place already," slipped in Mr Haga smoothly. "We test it twice weekly."

"Good," I replied before Mr Foster suggested that I might find a piece of paper he was handing to me interesting. I took the offered sheet and glanced at it. It was a copied and faxed report from that morning's Telegraph newspaper detailing the 'daring' escape from a hospital by a 'dangerous' criminal mastermind. The report went on to say how one of the nurses at the hospital was incriminated in the escape and how the police had issued a warrant for her arrest. At the bottom of the article was a poor photograph of my face, staring out glumly at the camera, clearly lifted from my hospital records.

"So, now you're a wanted criminal, Nurse Smith," chuckled Cunningham, "And, according to the Sun, Mr Foster's 'moll'! How's it all feel?"

"Stop baiting her, Fred!" chipped in the domestic chief. "She's new to the game and we couldn't have got the boss out without her help, you know that."

"Yes, that's true... but will she stand the course?"

"That's as maybe," cut in our mutual boss, "Carol, please excuse us again. I suggest you rest and then take a swim. Dinner will be at eight in the dining room. Please be prompt. And, by the way, unlike the other meals, we dress well for dinner - I don't like to see standards slipping, do I make myself clear?"

"As always, Mr Foster," I said before withdrawing.

After asking one of the house servants for directions, I eventually found my room and let myself in. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I stopped, rooted to the spot. It was magnificent! The room itself was at least as large as my entire flat in England and it was filled with light, wicker furniture while the walls were painted in pastel shades, a colour scheme that extended to the soft fabrics which featured a common flower motif. The many windows were all open and a pleasant breeze wafted the curtains about. And the views! From each window I could see the beach, the sea and, in the distance, the coral reef that circled the island and protected it from the worst swells that would otherwise strip the beaches of sand in weeks. Moving over to the built-in wardrobe, I pulled the double doors open to discover that it was crammed full of expensive, designer label clothing. I started to check the tags and quickly discovered that everything here was in my size and yet... and yet it was almost as if someone had simply ordered the entire contents of an expensive catalogue with no thought or direction and had then hung the delivery up in any order. There was no 'style' running through the collection, no flair, no common link, no feeling that they'd been chosen by one person for themselves... not that I was about to complain as just one of those frocks would have set me back more than a month's salary as a nurse back home. Deciding it was would be nice to have a swim in the pool before going any further, I pulled open some drawers until I discovered a selection of swim wear, most of which was in the 'micro-bikini' style and not my scene at all. However, tucked away to one side I found a 'sensible' one piece suit and put that on. Collecting a large, fluffy towel from my a joining bathroom, I headed down to the pool.

The bimbos greeted my arrival with a stony silence and not a welcoming smile amongst them. Clearly, they simply did not know how to react to me at all. Where did I fit into the hierarchy of the island's organisation? I wasn't a man to be serviced by them yet I clearly was not of their number either. I lived in the big house which gave me status... and yet I was not actually one of the boss's associates. So, they finally settled on ignoring me. Which rather suited me for they were all clearly local and my white, pasty skin stood out in stark contrast to their dusky hues. I couldn't even understand their chatter for English proved not to be their preferred tongue. I assumed that they could all speak my language but that they simply chose not to. Dropping my towel by the side of an empty lounger well away from the others, I eased myself into the cooling water and set off to swim a few clumsy lengths. Clearly, my lack of skill in swimming amused then for they started to giggle and to chatter amongst themselves and it wasn't long before one of the more brazen beauties stood up and walked to the side of the pool. Taking a stance there, her pussy fuzz on show for all to see, her bare breasts shaming my own rather more meagre equipment, she dived cleanly into the water with barely a splash before setting off to power up and down the pool at a speed roughly three times that which I could manage. Taking the hint, I clambered out and decided that a rest on the lounger might be a better idea.

For a while I dozed in the warm sun, occasionally turning over to ensure an even tan. By late afternoon a few of the men, who were now all dressed in trucks, had started to arrive, clearly relieved that their work for the day was over. The girls immediately became more animated and it wasn't long before some horse play had begun both in and out of the water. After awhile, a waiter appeared on the scene and handed some drinks around to any who wanted one and in the more relaxed atmosphere, one of the men even came over and started to chat to me. It seemed that his name was Peter and he was a mechanic from Blackpool and from him I learned that, while the big house itself was off limits to all who did not have a good reason to be there, this pool was the centre of life on the island. "It's the only one," he explained, "And the sea can get a little rough at times. We do water-ski down there... and fish sometimes... but for swimming, this is better and safer." From Peter I also learned that all the men here had been brought over from Europe, mostly from Britain but that the girls were hired from the brothels on the mainland. Seems they spent a month or two here before being shipped back and replaced by fresh stock. "The pimps like it 'cos it pays well and they don't actually have to do anything. The girls like it 'cos it's an easy time and it pays them well too by their standards. Normally they're lucky to earn a quid per customer and yet here they get the equivalent of two pounds fifty a day, flat rate We think it's great 'cos while the boss covers the basics in what he gives them, for an extra fiver we can get the girls to do all the kinky things we've only dreamed about getting women to do for us or to each other." Peter suddenly glanced away and asked if he was embarrassing me.